


Legends and Love

by Imperium



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Happy, M/M, Minor Jon Snow/Val, Pining, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 15:04:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19871593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imperium/pseuds/Imperium
Summary: Jon Snow falls asleep on Satin.





	Legends and Love

“You shouldn’t have done that” Satin says trying to keep the warmth out of his voice. 

The Lord Commander shrugs in response, but doesn't bother apologizing. 

He doesn’t even seem to  _ care _ that Satin hadn't left while Jon had his  _ very _ private meeting with Bowen Marsh, Othell Yarwyck and the rest.

Like Satin would ever leave him alone with those little weasels, which, on hindsight, he'd probably known.

_ Wonderful, Obstinate, Ridiculous Man. _

Satin pushes off from the door and walks in, grabbing a jug of warm water from the mantle, and pours it into a large mug, pressing it into the Lord Commander’s cold hands. 

Jon stares at the drink glumly, with such a forlorn pathetic look on his face that Satin almost regrets it. But; And he steels himself, If Jon wouldn’t take care of himself, Satin would do it for him. 

Jon slumps in defeat, and Satin quells the increasingly louder voice of guilt, obstinately. He doesn't  _ want _ to stress the Lord Commander out more, that was quite literally the last thing Satin wanted, but he couldn't afford to indulge him in this.

Jon twirls the mug between his long fingers. It feels like a test, and Satin is left strangely nervous. Jon could  _ order  _ Satin to fetch him wine. He was the  _ Lord Commander _ . He doesn’t doubt that if Pyp and Grenn had been here, Jon wouldn’t have questioned it. He wouldn’t have questioned Sam or Edd either, or Halder or Toad. Was Satin too quick to presume?. His heart beats quick in his chest. 

But he needn’t have worried. Jon downs the water in a few heavy gulps, wiping his wet mouth with the cloth Satin had left on the table earlier. 

Satin squashes down the relieved grin. 

It was so  _ absurd.  _ So very  _ silly,  _ all of this..

But all the same, Satin couldn’t deny the joy he felt at Jon’s trust. Moreover, that aside, Satin was amused that the Lord Commander was still so  _ dainty  _ after drinking  _ water  _ of all things. 

_ Highborns _

Much as Jon tried hard to fit in with the rest of them, when he was tired and  _ soft _ , especially like this - his mannerisms would really shine through, had he been anyone else, he’d have wiped his mouth with the back of his fist, Satin knew, - but now was not the time for that conversation.

Jon pushes his chair back and Satin hastens forward with a “Let me get your boots,” Jon usually never let Satin do anything that he felt was even remotely disrespectful, but he seemed too exhausted as he just nodded weakly, and threw his head back on the backrest of his straight-backed wooden chair, his hair spilling loose of the braids he generally kept them in. 

Satin unlaces the high boots in quick detached motions pulling one limb out of the heavy soft leather and then the other. “Do you want to change?” Satin asks, once he’s done; standing back up and going toward the wardrobe.

When Jon doesn’t respond, Satin sighs, turning around, slightly irritated, “Lord Commander...,” he begins-.. and stills.

Jon lay the way Satin had left him, head thrown back, and hair loose; but now his arms splayed open, one leg thrown over the armrest, the pale slender foot the only part of him not wrapped up in black, and if Satin’s eyes weren’t deceiving him, Jon Snow was most  _ definitely  _ drooling and was without doubt  _ completely  _ asleep. 

This time Satin couldn’t have stopped the grin, even if he had wanted to. 

Amazing, Precious  _ Precious  _ Man. 

He closes the wardrobe door and debates stripping the Commander off his leathers before tucking him in. 

Eventually he discards the notion. Jon Snow was the kind of man who really needed his armors, and Satin wouldn’t be the one to deprive him of it, especially when he was  _ this  _ vulnerable.

He walks forward and rearranges Jon’s body in some semblance of comfort, with both his feet on the ground, and hands more gently arranged so as to not dig into the wood. 

After, he leans back and assesses his work.

Jon’s position  _ still _ looked supremely uncomfortable. 

Satin threw his hands in the air, giving up. 

He bends down, sliding one arm under his knees and another beneath his back carefully _ , so carefully _ , and scoops him up. Jon’s head lolls against his shoulder, before settling in, his nose tucked against Satin’s throat comfortably. Satin was not a large man by any means, but all the same, Jon feels  _ small  _ in his arms, for all his strikingly majestic personality, Jon Snow was hardly a boy of six and ten, and Satin had never felt it more than he did now. 

And Yet. The Black Brothers could not have chosen a better man for the job. 

Satin secures his grip and walks to the Lord Commander’s bed chambers, moving side ways as he passed through the door, careful not to jostle Jon lest he hit his head, hoping all the while, to the Gods - Old and New, that none of said Black Brothers chose  _ now,  _ to randomly drop by to pay the Lord Commander a visit.

He tenderly tucks Jon into the bed, reaching back to loosen his jerkin at the throat on a second thought. 

_ Or he’d get bruises on the morrow  _ He tells himself, pulling his hand back so it did not linger. 

Focusing very hard on how not  _ warm _ , pulsing  _ burning warm _ Jon had been in his arms. 

Even less on how, almost-painfully  _ pretty  _ the man was.

So  _ powerful _ , and lonely and lovely. 

That fact didn’t help Satin, or anyone else for that matter; least of all the Commander himself. 

“Why do you have to be so sweet?” he whispers to the sleeping man, his hand reaching forward unconsciously to push a stray strand of hair from his face. And then pulls back with a wince, jerking his gaze away.

Not like he stood a chance. Not like  _ anyone  _ stood a chance.

He’d seen the Lord Commander and the Lady Val make eyes at each other. Satin waited for the day when they realised that they were basically the same person in all the ways that mattered. 

Tucking the blanket around Jon Snow’s frame, Satin stood back, quietly tip-toeing out of the room lest he wake Jon up. 

Ghost pads in, looking up at Satin for a moment, and then reaching up to give him an impromptu lick. Satin obligingly ruffles his fur. Ghost nuzzles into his palm briefly, before pulling away, a sharp soft bark as he padded silently toward his master.

He jumps on the bed, with a single graceful leap, walking around a bit, giant paws pressing into the fur, before curling his huge body pliantly into the Lord Commander. Jon Snow immediately turns over and hugs the direwolf, burrowing into his fur, like the  _ direwolf _ was nothing more than a glorified housecat. 

_ No chance at all indeed. _

Satin smiles sadly, and shuts the door behind him. 

  
  
  



End file.
